


Little Light

by stellarstatelogic



Series: Forerunner Chronicles: Focuslight Revelation [4]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6735736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarstatelogic/pseuds/stellarstatelogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of a daughter which a mother has hoped for, but has never deserved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Light

> / Account Codexed by VVSR-3537-Focuslight Oraculi \\\\\  
>  VERBATIM — / [Record] 989.248.417 — [Restricted] Authorized Access \
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> /---------------------------------------///

 

* * *

 

There was the dark fume roused by the obvious turmoil, a tragedy manifested before and after impact. I walked between the debris in the nadir of the fresh crater, searching amidst the unrelenting whispers of its [ghosts].

At [0312.0012-hour] I have received the summoning made by my first-born that a diplomatic shuttle bound across the demilitarized zone between the Commonwealth and the Ecumene has made its last sighting after crossing the D'nor [Daleth] System. His Warriors have tracked the remnants crashed onto an abandoned silicone mining planet called Panib D'nor. The crash-landing site of the human vessel unto our realm adjacent to the outpost of [Sagittarius] System 0257 was most disheartening. Its emissaries aboard could not have survived from the incident, and the delicacy of it was in need of my personal attention.

Accompanied by Miner representatives of the local Thema and the warriors heeded to my first-born, we have set up a search station and have marked the parameter for me to gather evidences with my Lifeworkers. I scoured through the remnant in search of hope from all that has been left both scorched and vaguely intact. The Miners’ intelligence over terrain has provided us of great assistance in gathering evidence. But our work as Lifeworkers has remained fruitless. There were no survivor, at least, not the ones recorded on salvageable constructs.

On the seventh day I began to notice an anomaly – of missing canisters of [nourishment fluid] on a regular basis. Convinced that it was not by any of our voracious members, for the following few weeks I have then been striving to capture the [little mouse] that has been scouring our settlement using basic and primitive mechanisms. The [lifeform] left minimal trace enough to be entertained as I have waited for itself to be outsmarted by its own boldness. It was eventually been captured, surprisingly by hand, a female human child no older than the age of five who struggled fiercely within the transparent containment bubble I have conjured by my palms.

“Let me go,” hissed the child, and I could feel the fight from within her small frame, the natural aggression deemed common within her species.

“Yprin Yprikushma,” I recognized, and the child has immediately stopped her fuming squirms and stared at me eye to eye. The silence reminded me of the vehemence of lesser species – of their innate reverence over the Forerunners as a superior species. Yet she as a human bears the sharp temper that pierces through such initial apprehension like a ray of light. The audacity was formidable as it was preciously pretentious, a tendency sung within their blood.

For days she has been placed within confinement befitting her situation with plentiful nourishment and company when she has sealed her heart behind barriers firmer than our quarantine. She has refused to ingest while the concerns of our Lifeworkers would grow, who have then forced her to take in the nutrition, even threatened to submerge her into a [suspending] liquid bath to sustain her health. Still, none have prevailed. The child left them with their own medical expertise to care over scratch marks and bruises on any area laid bare from their equipment. The subject of interest has quickly passed back into my hands, an instant karma of my own acceptance.

“It’s you again,” she hissed in a quieter defiance.

“You must have your reasons of refusing our food when we offer it to you openly,” I suggested; “Or does playing [cat-and-mouse] entice your appetite?”

The child buried her face into her curled form and refused to retort. I attempted to pet her, knowing retaliation may be imminent. When she then buried her fangs into my flesh, I did not squirm.

“Does this help with your pain?” I noticed the violent ambiguity surged as water accumulated on the rim of her eyes.

“You’re stupid,” said the child in defensive spite.

“Foolish enough to feed myself to an angry human child,” I spoke along her logic; “your grandmother was proud of your vigor. Had this not been happened, you and I would have been in my garden now. Perhaps not chewing me, little [book-worm], I heard you have a fond of books?”

“Librarian.”

“I am.”

The child rewarded me with the softest of all the heart-breaking whimpers I have ever heard of. I should have returned the child to her people, albeit I knew I would not have had. Late-Emissary Yprikushma was a respectable lady at her dusking age, a woman of many enemies and friends alike but without immediate family. The child has lost her parents according to my network of confidants – perhaps that has invoked my maternal instinct, or perhaps, I was too hopeful to have chosen to exploit this similarity of our familial situations.

When the Juridicals have intended to take her away from me for their interrogation, I have intervened. The child was neither critter nor pet for my sentimental need, as how I have been lucidly reminded by them. Alas, adoption was not uncommon – and I found myself, as the Lifeshaper and the overseer of all lives encompassed by the Linnurata, already capable of extending that value unto a human child. My husband was skeptical with the affair, and for months he has left me as her guardian. Meanwhile, Lightning supported my view as she would be as a dutiful daughter and a personal guard when all of my children have left our home for their pursuits and careers with the Rate of their father. For a time, there were only us – Calyx, Lightning, and Yprin. Lightning trained Yprin of discipline and mannerism befitting a Warrior family; the swiftness and resourcefulness bound within has been approved thereof. ‘Little Light’, as Lightning has named her with, earned her place in our family when she has earned the hearts of her brethren.

I have then been wondering if there could be a deeper reason to such bond forged between Forerunner and Human – of mother and daughter, of teacher and student, of mentor and apprentice. Until I have noticed a new life formed within me, when I perceived a night sky filled with new-born stars within my dreams. I was baffled; my [millennial interim] was set to have lasted for a period longer than such expectation. But the premonition, Calyx has verified through diagnosis, and made sound of the sure results to the Didact. A most joyful day.

Yprin was especially thrilled to become an elder sister. The child at her youthful age of seven anticipated – and expressed much enthusiasm.

“’Stars-of-Eternal-Brilliance’,” I said. “Your father has named her thus.”

“But we can call her ‘Twinkle’? Can’t she, Mother?”

“How so?”

“It matches with ‘Little Light’,” she muttered as she placed her ear upon my abdomen with her gentle earnestness; “I can hear the stars whispering. They will live so much longer than us, but it’s all in here now. It’s – nice.”

There was my Yprin, my Little Light, unfading amidst the Darkness, the heart of transcendent aspiration.


End file.
